


The Image that Troubles My Sight

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take a left turn during the episode "I Am Become Death." Peter comes to visit Gabriel in Costa Verde. Before passing along his power, Gabriel has to be sure Peter will be able to use it correctly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Image that Troubles My Sight

  
\--

"Noah, you know what? The grown-ups have to have a little chat in the other room."

\--

Sylar closed the door to the kitchen, and the smile dropped from his face. "Where's Peter?"

"I _am_ Peter."

"I know. Of course. I just mean my--our Peter. The Peter from this time. Is he--."

"He's dead."

Sylar froze, and Peter could almost believe that was concern on his face. "No. He can heal. Did you wait to see--? What happened?" he sputtered.

Peter shrugged. "Claire put two bullets in the back of his head."

Sylar sank down into a chair. "Claire," he said hollowly.

"That doesn't matter now. I need your help."

"Did he send you here?"

"He--the other Peter--said I could stop what was coming."

  
"Did he?" Sylar stood and took a step toward Peter. "You're so different. I never knew him--knew you, back when he was like this. I mean, Nathan always said he was different, but--."

  
"Nathan said?"

  
Sylar smiled sadly. "Yes. When he still had time for the prodigal brother."

  
Peter stared at him dumbly. Sylar cocked his head to the side, thinking. "You came all this way and you didn't even know we're brothers?"

  
"What are you talking about, Sylar?"

  
He winced. "It's Gabriel. I'm not the boogeyman you remember. You really didn't know?"

  
Peter focused, trying to draw out of Sylar's mind the truth he was looking for. Sylar frowned back at him, and all he heard in the man's mind was an indistinct buzz. "You're lying," Peter snarled.

  
"Just because you can't pick the answer out of my head doesn't mean I'm lying." Sylar looked out toward the kitchen before lowering his voice. "I'm your brother. Angela told me four years ago. She arranged to have me adopted so she could concentrate on bigger things."

  
"I don't have to listen to this," Peter growled. He headed for the door.

  
Sylar grabbed Peter's arm and pulled him back, and before Peter knew what was happening, Sylar's hand was wrapped around the back of his neck, and he was kissing him. For a moment, Peter only registered the rough-soft thrill of it: Sylar's tongue in his mouth possessive, as if it belonged there. It felt strangely familiar, and it went on entirely too long before Peter gathered his wits and shoved Sylar away.

  
"What the hell was that?" he demanded, pushing Sylar up against the wall.

  
"I'm trying to make you understand," Sylar said. His glasses were askew, and his hair was mussed. He didn't look like the boogeyman at all. But that didn't mean he could be trusted.

  
"Tell me what's going on!" he demanded.

  
"Dad?" the kid called from the other room.

  
"Everything's fine!" Sylar called. He looked back at Peter, swallowed against Peter's hand around his throat, holding him off the ground with inhuman strength. "They'll be after you, and sooner later they'll think to look here."

  
Slowly, Peter let him down. "We're not finished, Sylar."

  
"No." Sylar rubbed his neck where red marks were rapidly fading. "But keeping the family safe comes first. You should know that." He opened the door to the kitchen. "Noah! Grab your bag! We're leaving."  
\--

  
Sylar drove a Volvo. That was perhaps more disturbing than the fact that he made waffles and wore a "hail to the chef" apron.

  
Noah sat buckled into a safety seat in the back, humming to himself and licking syrup off his fingers and the dog (whose name, Noah had told him proudly, was Mr. Muggles) sat in a plastic carrier on Peter's lap.

  
They dropped the dog off at Pride and Pedigree Boarding Center ("Happy as always to see our widdle Mr. Muggles!"), and Noah went to his usual babysitter, Mrs. Burnaking ("Whatever you need, Gabriel. You just be careful out there, dear."). Gabriel gave his son a big hug. "You be good, little man," he said seriously. "I love you."

  
When they were back in the Volvo, Peter asked, "You expect this to take a long time?"

  
"Always good to be prepared," Sylar said, but he didn't meet Peter's eyes.

  
"Is it safe to leave him?"

  
"It's you they want to kill," Sylar said apologetically. "The further we are from him, the better."

  
He'd driven them across town to the Roy-El Motel and paid in cash while Peter sat in the car fidgeting, expecting Claire to jump out from behind a bush at any moment until Sylar pulled open the door and dragged him inside.

  
"I don't know why we're even here," Peter grumbled. He perched on the edge of the bed and glared at Sylar. They were wasting valuable time; he needed to get back.

  
"If you want me to help you avoid Claire and her buddies, you have to trust me," he said, pulling the blinds closed.

  
"That's not why I came to you."

  
Sylar turned back from the window. "No?"

  
"I need your power. He said it was the only way I could stop what's coming."

  
"So that's what this is about," Sylar muttered.

  
Peter got up, took Sylar by the arm, and guided him away from the window. "If I can see how things work, then I'll know how to fix everything."

  
"I'm not going to give it to you, my ability." He gently lifted Peter's hand off his arm. "I'm not."

  
"You said you wanted to help."

  
"You don't realize... My ability is not just seeing how things work." He turned away. "There's a hunger that comes with it... To know more, to have more. I couldn't control it. It turned me into a killer. A monster." Gabriel turned back to face him, and Peter could swear he was genuinely concerned. "And I am not going to willingly condemn you to hell. I would never do that to you."

  
"Why not? You seemed okay with _killing_ me before."

  
"I didn't..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Besides, I didn't know then what I know now."

  
"Oh right. Because you're my brother." Peter retreated to the far corner of the room and crossed his arms over his chest.

  
"Why can't you accept that?" Sylar moved toward him, but stopped a few feet short. "What else can I do to convince you?"

  
"Nothing. That stunt you pulled doesn't prove anything."

  
"Doesn't it?" Sylar pressed up against Peter, closing in on his space. "Would you take Nathan's word? Would that do it?"

  
"I don't know."

  
"But I do. I know what the two of you look like in bed together--you and Nathan--so comfortable and familiar and _desperate_ for each other. I know that Nathan used to like to watch us together, when there'd be a little fight in it, and you'd pin me down and try to hurt me, didn't worry about hurting me because you could burn me and cut me and it wouldn't matter and you--both of you--liked to see me in pain. I know what it feels like to have Nathan inside me so I deep I feel like I might die, and how it feels to be inside you at the same time, the little sounds you make when you're close to the edge. Oh, I know what _brother_ means in this family, Peter."

  
Peter was shaking. Sylar--Gabriel--was too close to him; it was like he was taking up all the air in the room.

  
"And then you left. You cut me out of your life--you cut Nathan out of your life."

  
"That would never happen," Peter whispered.

  
"You've seen what you become, right? Cold. Cynical. It was hard for Nathan, losing you while you were still around. It was hard for me, too. But we were there for each other."

  
That took a moment to penetrate, but when it did, Peter shook himself out of his stupor enough to pull away from the wall and put some distance between him and Gabriel. "What the hell does that mean?"

  
"Don't worry, Peter. Nathan could never love me the way he loved you. Still loves you," Gabriel said with a rueful smile. "I just want you to understand&amp;... We're family."

  
Peter closed his eyes. It sounded true. Frighteningly true. But it didn't have to change things. He rounded on Gabriel. "If we're so close, then give me your power."

  
"Peter, I told you. I can't just give it to you."

  
"It's important. I _need_ it." He planted his hand against the wall next to Gabriel's head.

  
"I've known Peter, _my_ Peter, for four years. Have you asked yourself why he hasn't taken my power in all this time? Did you ask him, before they--."

  
"Maybe if you'd let him have your power, he wouldn't be dead now."

Gabriel recoiled as if slapped. "You're more like your future self than I thought."

"Maybe that's a good thing. Because if I don't figure out how to fix things, the world is going to end, and _everyone_ dies. You, your son. Everyone." It was a dirty tactic, Peter knew, but he had to make Gabriel understand.

  
Gabriel closed his eyes tightly for a moment, opened them again. "You don't believe I have your best interests at heart, but I do. And I can't bear the thought of you facing the hunger alone. So if we do this, you have to promise me something." He took Peter's shoulders and stepped away from the wall into his personal space; it was an accurate echo of Nathan's mannerism, and Peter wondered if Gabriel was aware of it. "Promise me that when you go back, you'll find me--the me from your time--and you'll help each other."

  
Peter pushed him away, back into the wall. "Maybe you've forgotten about that time in your life, but Sylar wants to kill me."

  
Gabriel laughed. "Is that what you think?"

  
"I've seen some pretty good evidence to that effect, yeah."

  
Gabriel's smile just grew wider. "Funny. I always thought you were on to me. Remember, I used to be that man. He doesn't want to kill you."

  
"Then what?"

  
"He wants..." Gabriel trailed off into silence, and Peter wondered if he was going to leave it at that. Then he grabbed Peter around the waist and pulled him into a kiss. Peter only let it go on for a moment before shoving Gabriel away with more strength than was strictly necessary. Gabriel crashed into the wall with a painful-sounding thump and slid to the floor.

  
"Stop doing that," Peter growled.

  
Gabriel brushed himself off and stood up calmly. "You wanted to learn how to use my power. You have to start from what you know: _your_ original power."

  
"Empathy." The word had never tasted so sour.

  
"The hardest thing to understand is the workings of human behavior," Gabriel said patiently. "If you can understand how a man works, then you can start to see how history is made, how _destiny_ is made. But it all starts with a person."

  
"Fine. So?"

  
Gabriel closed the distance between them and hooked his fingers into the front waistband of Peter's pants. Peter stood his ground. Gabriel leaned in close to his ear. "I can see how you work. I knew even before the first time we were together." He licked a stripe up Peter's neck, and Peter couldn't help the shudder that ran through him, reflexive and pleasurable.

  
"Being this close strips a person of all pretense, all artifice. If you can't understand a person in bed, you'll never be able to understand them."

  
"Get off me." Peter shoved him hard, and Gabriel stumbled back. "Stop messing around. Give me your power right now, or I'll take it from you."

  
"As if you could," Gabriel said coolly, and crossed his arms over his chest, challenging.

  
Peter concentrated, trying to drag Sylar's power out of him, trying to see the mechanism that allowed Gabriel to do what he did. Peter couldn't see it; he had no more luck than he'd had when he'd tried to read Gabriel's mind. No one else's power had thwarted him this way. He concentrated harder, pictured himself breaking down a wall in Gabriel's mind. He felt a building pain behind his eyes.

  
Gabriel looked on at first with scorn, then with growing concern. At last he grabbed Peter's shoulder and shook him. "Lay off," he said sharply. "You're hurting yourself."

  
"Not until you hand it over." Peter grabbed Gabriel's arm and swung him down to the floor, and in an instant Peter was on top of him, pressing both hands into Gabriel's chest as if he could claw the power out through his ribcage.

  
"Peter," Gabriel gasped, drawing a ragged breath. "You can't...Let me help you."

  
With a huff of frustration, Peter pulled back. His head was throbbing. He raised a hand to his face and was surprised when his fingers came away wet. His nose was dripping blood.

  
Gabriel sat up and looked at him in concern. "You said that used to happen when you pushed your powers too hard."

  
"It's happened once before. No big deal."

  
"I remember you would get these headaches if you'd been overextending yourself. Martyr headaches, Nathan used to call them." He brushed a hand against Peter's face.

  
Peter slapped it away. "Stop acting like you know me."

  
In one smooth sequence, Gabriel grabbed Peter, flipped him onto his back, pinned his arms at his sides, and straddled his waist. "I do know you, Pete, and I know your weaknesses, and I am _trying_ to help you. Now do you want my power or not?"

  
Peter clenched his jaw. "Yes," he ground out.

  
"Then stop being such a brat." He leaned his forehead against Peter's. "Okay?"

  
Peter relaxed into that touch. Sylar--Gabriel--his brother was pinning him to the ground, and when he really took a second to assess his reaction, he wasn't scared, he wasn't disgusted. It felt right, and familiar, almost like it did with Nathan.

  
"He taught me so many things about you," Gabriel said, and kissed Peter softly, tentatively this time. Peter wondered if Gabriel had picked up mind-reading somewhere, or if he just knew Peter that well. "He'll always have more practice, but... I was always a fast learner."

  
Peter relaxed under Gabriel's kisses, feeling arousal start to simmer as Gabriel's body moved on top of his. He wasn't at all sure this should be happening. "We're practically strangers," he whispered.

  
"No we're not," Gabriel said. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth, then he pulled off Peter's shirt. His fingers slid against Peter's ribs, pressed in just a little on his left side, right where he was the most ticklish.

  
Peter squirmed and let out a bright, involuntary chuckle. "Hey--stop it."

  
Gabriel smiled. "See, I know you." And _that_ was Gabriel's hand snaking between them, cupping Peter's groin. Gabriel kissed him again. "Okay?"

  
Peter closed his eyes. His body was definitely enjoying this. Gabriel was being so gentle with him. He felt strangely safe, like they'd done this before.

  
Gabriel must have interpreted Peter's silence as consent, because he continued, popping the buttons on Peter's pants and dragging down the zipper.

  
"When I first started noticing my power," Gabriel said softly, "It manifested in simple ways: just knowing as I was doing something whether it would work or not." His fingers finally touched flesh, tracing the ridge of Peter's half-hard cock. "Just a little voice saying, "Yes, that might work."

  
"And then, I just follow..." He drifted down to his knees and pulled Peter free of his boxers. "And learn." Then his lips wrapped around Peter's cock.

  
Peter clenched his hands into fists. There was nothing to hold onto, but he desperately needed a grip. He shouldn't be letting Gabriel do this, shouldn't let himself get distracted.

  
"It's okay." Gabriel pulled his mouth off to look up at Peter though long, dark lashes. "The first time, you told me it was hard to let go. We'd spent so long fighting each other." He licked up and down the length of Peter's cock. "You never told me if you felt what I did, felt the same sense of destiny, bringing us together, that it was always meant to be like this between us."

  
Had there been a feeling like that? Peter didn't know; all his memories of Sylar were wrapped up with pain and fear and confusion. Not necessarily love. Not by a long shot. But he knew they were something to each other. Their paths were intertwined. Now that Gabriel's mouth was fastened around his dick, it seemed like this was what had to happen. That logic was broken, somehow, but Peter couldn't for the life of him figure out why. "Hard to think," Peter said.

  
Gabriel sucked more of Peter into his mouth. An involuntary noise escaped Peter's control: a high-pitched release that sounded like a keening animal. Gabriel hummed in amusement, sending delicious vibrations through Peter's groin. "No fair," Peter muttered.

  
Gabriel pulled his mouth free to press his cheek against Peter's spit-slick erection. "Petrellis are competitive," he said smugly, and nipped at the sensitive skin of Peter's inner thigh. "That didn't take superpowers to figure out."

  
Peter couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at that. "Okay then. Ten bucks say I can make you come first."

  
Gabriel sat back, suddenly, and stared up at Peter.

  
Peter frowned. "What?"

  
Gabriel shook his head. "He... Years ago, he said exactly the same thing, once." He leaned his head forward, resting it against Peter's leg. "I just miss you--miss him," he said sadly.

  
Peter saw it, then, clear as an open wound or a fractured bone. Gabriel was broken. And he could fix him. Peter pushed him away, onto his back, and was kneeling on top of him in a flash. Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise as Peter ground his ass down against his erection. "This is starting to make sense," Peter said.

  
Gabriel closed his eyes, pressing his head back into the floor, seemingly unwilling to break the moment. He looked gorgeous, but unfinished, somehow. Which reminded Peter there was something he could do about that. He stripped Gabriel's hoodie, then his shirt off over his head and stood up again, examining the challenge before him.

  
The answer came easily, as easily as if Gabriel had told him what to do. "This isn't what you want, is it?" A quick move of his hand had Gabriel flipped onto his belly, telekinetically pinned. "This is what turns you on."

  
"Guessing, Peter?" Gabriel shot over his shoulder, but his breathing was quicker, his voice rough around the edges. Peter could see how he worked--see how turned on he was.

  
"No," Peter said, smiling to himself. He pulled at Gabriel's jeans, yanking open the button fly and pulling them roughly down past his hips, dragging his boxers along, too. He grasped Gabriel's cock, trapped against his belly. "See? Not guessing. It's like seeing a path lit up before me, showing me where to go." He pumped Gabriel once, twice, roughly. "Or like a sound far off that wants me to follow it."

  
Gabriel shook under him. "That's beautiful." He sounded almost reverent, proud of Peter. "You really feel all of that?"

  
"You don't believe me?" Peter pulled Gabriel's pants the rest of the way off, tossing them off into a corner. He was having trouble concentrating. The sight of Gabriel spread out beneath him, exposed and vulnerable, welcoming him in, was intoxicating. And there was no hiding how this was affecting him; Peter's cock was hard against Gabriel's ass, sliding against the bare skin. In truth, it was a little difficult to follow those clues that had seemed so obvious a few minutes ago; the cacophony of his own needs was too distracting.

  
"Don't force it," Gabriel said. Quickly, he added, "To see the way to fix it, I mean. Just do what you think is right, and the way will present itself."

  
"None of this is _right_," Peter whispered. He saw what to do, then: the path of what _worked_ running in perfect synch with what Peter desperately _wanted_. Still, he held back. "I shouldn't be doing this."

  
Gabriel pushed himself up onto all fours, and looked back over his shoulder at Peter. His face was flushed, his brown eyes wide open and desperate. "You've come this far," he said gently. "Please."

  
Peter draped himself over Gabriel's back, wrapping his arms around his waist. He had to. It was in his nature, he knew, to fix things. Whenever he saw someone he could help, he had to do it. He'd never been able to say no. And there would have been no point, anyway. He wanted this, maybe as much as Gabriel did. It felt like so many things had brought him to this moment, there was no point in fighting it. "Maybe it is destiny," he whispered.

  
Gabriel raised his hand, and the small bottle of lotion on the bedside table flew to him. Peter took the bottle and flipped the top, dumping a generous amount on his hand. He kissed the middle of Gabriel's spine. "Relax." Gabriel took a few deep breaths, but he was still tense when Peter pressed two slick fingers into his ass. "I'll take care of you," Peter said. He wasn't sure where the words came from, but he knew they were the right ones to soothe Gabriel. "You don't have to be strong anymore. You're not alone."

  
Under the influence of Peter's words, Gabriel relaxed, and the fingers slid in more easily. Peter wiped the rest of the lotion over his cock, and pressed against Gabriel's entrance. "This is what you want?" he asked.

  
"Please," Gabriel said, his words more breath than sound.

  
Peter pressed forward slowly but relentlessly, feeding his dick into Gabriel, watching in fascination as inch after inch disappeared into the wonderful tightness. Gabriel was trembling under him, trying to keep his breathing steady. His arms gave out, and he turned his head to the side as his shoulders pressed into the floor. "You're so good," Peter whispered to him, encouraging. "You feel so good. Beautiful, Gabriel."

  
When he was finally in all the way, he held still, wrapping his arms against around Gabriel's waist and just rolling his hips gently. "You okay?"

  
"Yeah," Gabriel said. "You were always... You are always a quick learner, Peter." Then, quieter. "I love you."

  
Peter kissed the back of Gabriel's neck. He knew what he needed to say to fix what was broken here, but he couldn't. Instead, he said, "I know."

  
Peter started to move: first just a gentle rocking, then longer thrusts, pulling out slowly and leaning back in. Finally, Gabriel pushed himself back up onto his hands, and said, "I can take more."

  
Peter nodded, even though he knew Gabriel couldn't see it, and wrapped his hands around Gabriel's hips to get more leverage. He began to ride Gabriel harder, fucking with long, fast strokes, his balls slapping against Gabriel's ass in counterpoint to his panting. He reached a hand around and grabbed hold of Gabriel's leaking dick, jerking it in rhythm with his pounding.

  
"Peter, please." There was a warning note in Gabriel's voice.

  
"I know," Peter said, but he didn't slow his pace.

  
Gabriel's hips jerked back, throwing Peter off his rhythm. His dick jerked in Peter's hand, and he let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he came against the floor. Peter kept moving, driving into Gabriel until he felt the spark inside of him burst into a flame. He spurted into Gabriel, crying out as he accidentally unleashed a spark of electricity, arching between him and his brother.

  
Gabriel cried out in surprise, but he didn't pull away as Peter trembled through the aftershocks of his orgasm. When it was over, Peter pulled out slowly, the wet slide against sensitive skin sending a shiver through him. He stood, hauling Gabriel up after him just long enough to pull him toward the bed, where they both collapsed.

  
For a minute, they were both quiet, trembling and breathing.

  
Finally, Gabriel said. "It's in you now. I'm so sorry."

  
"Don't be," Peter said. His body was buzzing with energy. He felt powerful, more powerful than ever before. "It's amazing. I could do anything."

  
Gabriel turned to face him, frowning seriously. "You have to be careful, Peter. It's going to be strange at first. You'll have to learn to control it. Remember, you promised to let me help you."

  
Peter rolled over, putting his back to Gabriel. He wasn't sure why the warning rubbed him the wrong way. He had so much power now, there was nothing to fear. Unless Gabriel was trying to hide something from him. Manipulate him, somehow. "Maybe control's not what I need," he said softly.

  
"Peter." Gabriel put his hand over Peter's heart, but he pushed it off and jumped out of bed. "Talk to me. What's happening?"

  
Peter stood staring at Gabriel. He couldn't turn away. Gabriel was watching him carefully, warily. He must be waiting to see if Peter would realize he was being manipulated. But Peter wasn't going to be used again. He was too strong for that now. "That's not everything." He grabbed Gabriel by the back of the neck and pulled him to the edge of the bed.

  
"Peter, no!" Gabriel struggled, but he couldn't escape Peter's grip. "I swear I'm not keeping anything from you. That's the hunger talking. I tried to warn you."

  
"Is this really it? All these years stealing abilities, and you try to pawn me off with some rip-off Zen crap and a quick fuck? Please." He hauled Gabriel off the bed easily and sent him crashing into the far wall.

  
Peter could hear Gabriel's panicked heart racing, symptom of his fear, and wondered if his strength was coming from Knox's power, too. Even as he thought it, he could see how it worked. Gabriel's fear would feed him, make him strong even beyond Niki's ability. No one could stop him.

  
"Peter, listen. You have to control it." Gabriel pulled himself up against the wall, naked and now bleeding. He wasn't a small man, but now he looked small. Small and weak: shoulders hunched and eyes pleading.

  
Peter could smell his fear. "Maybe I'm not as naive as you remember, _Sylar_," he sneered. "I know you wouldn't hand over your ability that easily. But I'll find out what you're hiding."

  
"Peter, please--."

  
He raised a finger, pointed it at Gabriel.

  
"Don't do this," Gabriel begged.

  
Peter's hand wavered, looking into Gabriel's eyes. He wanted to believe his brother. He wanted to do the right thing. But he had to be strong, strong enough to save the world. "I'm sorry." He steadied his hand, and gave in to the hunger.


End file.
